The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(3)

“I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but here I am, a blubbering mess,” Uncle Paul says. “I love you, Crew. You’re my boy.” He holds his fist out and honestly . . . how do I even react?

“We’re worried about you, Crew,” Dad says. “You haven’t been the same since Pops passed. You have all the reason to mourn, but we’re not sure if that’s what you’re doing.”

“Didn’t know there was a proper way to mourn,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.

“There isn’t.” Mom places her hand on my leg. “Everyone mourns in their own way, but we, as the people who care most about you, need to make sure that you’re doing it in a constructive way.”

“Your mom is right, dude,” Hutton says. “You’re letting yourself slip into a dark place and, frankly, it’s scaring the shit out of me.”

“Is this about my season? Because trust me, I don’t need you three harping on me about it. I know I was a shitshow out there and that my chances of actually making it professionally are slim to none now. I don’t need the reminder.”

“We don’t care about football right now,” Dad says. “We’re worried about you.”

In a soft voice, Mom says, “We’re worried you haven’t found closure yet with Pops.”

“Have you?” I ask, a little surprised. “He was your dad, Mom. But, then again, you guys knew he was sick, so you had time to prepare. I didn’t.”

“He didn’t want you to know,” Mom says gently.

“And why the fuck not?” I shout. “If I knew he was sick, I would have spent this past summer with him. I would have soaked up every last moment, but he took that from me. You took that from me.”

Mom’s eyes well up and I can feel the tension start to build as everyone goes silent. Minus Hutton, they all knew. And not one of them said a damn thing to me.

Finally, Dad says, “He left you something.”

“Porter”—Mom shakes her head—“not the time.”

“What did he leave me?” I ask.

As if I’m not in the room, Dad says to Mom, “There’s too much anger here, Marley. The only way he will understand is if we tell him.”

“Tell me what?”

“I think you should tell him,” Uncle Paul says.

“I don’t think he can handle it,” Mom counters.

“Handle what?” I ask, growing even more agitated.

Everyone pauses.

The room goes silent.

Mom and Dad stare at each other.

Uncle Paul clutches his hands at his chest.

The crunch of a cracker breaks the silence followed by a mumbled “sorry” from Hutton.

“Someone better tell me what the hell is going on.”

“You’re going to Germany,” Hutton says.

Everyone flashes their eyes in his direction. Dad says his name sternly under his breath, and my best friend cowers with a shrug.

“Sorry, but someone had to say something. I have one day with my best friend.” Hutton taps his wrist. “We have to move this along; we have mindless video games to play.”

Blinking, I turn back to my parents and ask, “I’m going to Germany? The country?”

Sighing, Mom glances at Dad and then back to me. “Pops left special instructions for your dad and me to send you on a trip he went on many years ago. Before Paul and I were born. It’s a trip we’ve all been on and a trip Pops now wants you to go on. This is your final break before everything turns into extreme chaos—that’s if you decide to go to the combine and try to make it professionally. Either way, the trip is booked.”

“Wait.” I sit taller. “You’re going to just . . . send me off to Germany?”

“Yeah. Cool, right, bro?” Hutton says, hitting my shoulder. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to go to Germany during Christmas.”

Ignoring him, I ask, “Are you going with me?”

Mom and Dad shake their heads. “No, but you won’t be alone. You, uh, will meet up with your travel companion when you get there.”

“Travel companion?” I ask, my brows shooting up. “Who is it?”

“We’re not at liberty to say,” Dad says.

As I try to comprehend everything, I scoot to the edge of the couch, knees pressed to the coffee table.

“Hey, what’s happening? I can’t see Crew,” Uncle Paul protests.

I ignore him too. “Let me get this straight. Before Pops passed away, he put together a trip to Germany for me and had you two book it, and I’ll be joined by some mystery person on this trip?”

“Bingo bango,” Hutton says, patting me on the back. “Not all brawn, this one. He’s got the brains too.”

“Why did you invite him?” I ask my parents.

“Trying to figure that out right now,” Dad says, rubbing his hand across his forehead.

“Comedic relief?” Hutton asks with a smart-ass smile.

“Hey, I thought that’s what I’m here for?” Uncle Paul says.

“How have you lightened the mood?” Hutton asks. “You’ve just been a blubbering mess.”

“Can you blame me? Look at him.” Uncle Paul chokes up. “He’s become a beautiful, handsome man.”